After the war, Aston had been reassigned to a mission in the Belgian Congo, one of the few protestant missions in BC, where the need for health care and education was great. A missionary was often the primary source of health care for the surrounding area, and the only source of education, and the Catholic missions were unable to provide for the vast territory. There were only a little over three thousand Belgians living in the country, with an estimated twenty million natives.

There were estimates that as many as ten million more natives had died in the pre-war period, under the hand of King Leopold II, due primarily to illnesses contracted from the Europeans, or from insect borne diseases contracted in the forced labor camps. However, huge strides had been made in health care for the natives.

It had been learned as early as 1903 that the sleeping sickness, responsible for so many of the deaths, was caused by the bite of the tsetse fly, and a drug had finally been introduced which could treat the disease without the side effects of the previous, arsenic based treatment. Aston received regular shipments of the drug, Suramin, and much of his time was spent plying the rivers, treating the natives who were forced to work in areas infested with tsetse flies, and simultaneously spreading the word of God.

They were much happier than previously; they had a social network with other white settlers, who were primarily administrators, either with governmental agencies or private companies. The mission thrived, serving a huge number of people in the nearby villages. It was a wild, beautiful area that few white people had ever set eyes upon until very recently, full of beautiful mountains, rivers and jungles.

Aston’s Bantu and Swahili were polished, and he could deliver his sermons with a flair that he had previously lacked. One of Elizabeth’s native piano student proved to be a prodigy, and was able to play traditional African tunes by ear, while translating and adapting the words from the Methodist Hymnbook to the tunes.

During the worship services, the building shook with the stomping, clapping, and singing of the natives. When Aston delivered his fiery oratory, the people stomped at his strong points, and booed loudly when he described sin or evil or mentioned Satan. The services were some of the most raucous, yet inspiring that Elizabeth had ever attended. Aston was at the height of his powers, and his congregation continued to grow quickly.

Aston asked for, and received, a grant of land from the Belgian government that would effectively double the size of the compound. Natives from the congregation helped build a new perimeter wall and several additional buildings. The new chapel held twice as large a congregation. When it was done, they retrofitted the old chapel to be used as an orphanage, which was badly needed.

The African Inland Mission sent a constant stream of supplies for the burgeoning mission, including clothes, school supplies, medical supplies, diapers and more. They were excited by Aston’s success, and invited him back to America. They wanted him to share his success stories at their sponsor congregations, but there was no way that he could leave, with all that was going on. They sent a delegation to him, to spend two weeks at the mission and report back on the techniques that Aston used to convert so many of the natives.

The population of persons living inside the compound was growing; it seemed a new hut was built almost monthly. With so much to do, there were natives needed for tending the children in the orphanage, working the fields, hunting, cooking, cleaning and all the other tasks that a growing village requires.

Elizabeth was training four of the older female students to be able to teach school, so they could open new schools. Aston was working with two of the brighter male students to train them in medicine, and he had a small group of men that held weekly Bible studies, so that he could eventually send them out to spread the Gospel.

The couple were kept busy reading the most recent medical journals, and applying what

they learned to the native population. The people seemed grateful for the medical attention they got from the missionaries, unlike the hostile natives in FEA.

As for Elizabeth, she had come to an understanding with God. She had asked for, and in her mind she believed she had received forgiveness for the sin of adultery she had committed. In return, she had promised not to repeat the sin. She still masturbated frequently, but rationalized that God had never strictly forbidden it in the Scriptures.

Although the natives accepted the God that the white devils brought, that did not mean that they gave up their beliefs in Paganism and shamanism, which had been part of their culture for millennia. They held on to their gods and the rituals they used to worship them.

Even the converts, who prayed to the true God while in the mission, hedged their bets by also praying to their ancestors, and some of them even continued to participate in the evil festivals, celebrations and rites of their fertility goddess, despite being told it was a sin to worship false gods.

During the harvest season, Elizabeth could hear the drums from many miles away, beating deep into the night, as the natives engaged in the ancient rituals that they believed would appease Ninepone and ensure the fertility of both their fields and their women.

Elizabeth had seen figurines of Ninepone, displayed in the huts of natives, with her bare, jutting breasts and swollen belly. It sickened her to think of these people worshipping that idol. The festival went on for a week, and the drums kept her up late into the night, until finally, too weary to be stay awake any longer, she went to sleep. When she awoke each morning, the drums had stopped sometime in the wee hours.

She searched out some of the older women to ask about these festivals. The more she learned of the decadence they engaged in, the more she resolved to shut down the evil practices. Like most pagan practices, they were created by men, and Elizabeth would argue, for men, with their exploitation of young women. She hoped that the civilizing effect of the European colonizers and the missionaries would expose the false gods and the men who benefited from their worship.

Then, suddenly, it was all dashed. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away, it is said. When Aston contracted a fever, accompanied by headaches, he tried to work through it, but within a week, he was experiencing severe muscle aches and weakness.

Elizabeth pored through her medical books. Frightened, she requested a visit from the nearest medical doctor. What he told her confirmed her worst fears.

“It’s polio, Mrs. Larksley,” he said.

Elizabeth knew there was no known cure. Her face went ashen.

“Now, now, Mrs. Larksley, in many cases the patient recovers fully. Sometimes, the patient recovers with only mild disabilities.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Pray, Mrs. Larksley. I’m afraid that’s all I can offer you. But prayer is more powerful than all the medicines I can offer,” he said, as he packed his kit and prepared to leave. “I’ll come back in a week. If he exhibits signs of difficulty breathing or swallowing, contact me immediately.”

As it happened, Aston’s disabilities were severe. The muscles in his legs withered away, particularly on the left side.

When the fever had left him, Aston said, “Well, that’s that, then. I’ll contact the AIM and let them know.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Elizabeth said, emphatically.

“Well, what do you expect me to do? I can’t continue accepting my salary, providing nothing in return.”

“You’ll continue to do your work, exactly as before, except now you’ll require more assistance.”

“I don’t see how I can possibly do my work with this shell of a body,” he said, pointing at his legs.

“You can still think, and you can still speak. I can inoculate the natives. Others can spread the Word to outlying areas. You will not tell the AIM. I will not have you returned to England on a pension to become an object of pity.”

She knew the best thing for Aston was to continue his work, and she dreaded the thought of returning to England, where she would live in poverty, working in a shop or cleaning houses.

Aston was fitted with metal braces for his legs. With assistance, he could rise from his wheelchair, and with the forearm crutches he used, he could waddle to his pulpit. If anything, his sermons were even more powerful than before, as he waved his crutches wildly to make his most emphatic points. He was an object of inspiration, rising above his infirmity, and his congregation respected him more than before.

At the end of each day, as Elizabeth helped him remove the braces, she would rub his aching legs to help relieve the pain. The disabilities fundamentally changed the nature of their sexual relations. She became the aggressor, initiating sex when she wanted, rather than waiting for Aston.

And of course, she was always the one on top, out of necessity. That was fine with her, she enjoyed that position. She would put a hand on either side of Aston, raising and lowering her rump to slide him in and out of her, her breasts hanging above Aston’s chest for him to enjoy watching or playing with.

Afterward, when he fell asleep, she would slip her hand between her legs and rub herself until she climaxed, stifling her impulse to cry out in her ecstasy. During such times, she usually fantasized not about the sex she had just shared with her husband, but rather one of her illicit relations with John Brown or Captain Walthan.

A number of the local converts joined Mary and David to become the arms and legs of Aston, travelling far and wide to attend to villages, sharing the Gospel and determining the health needs of the villages. During the two weeks surrounding the planting of the fields, when the school was closed to allow the children to help their families, Elizabeth was free to join them to provide much needed inoculation for the sleeping sickness and smallpox.

During one of these trips, Elizabeth, with Mary in attendance, was attending to the inhabitants of a village deep in the midst of the densest jungle, inoculating against smallpox. David was busy spraying kerosene oil into any puddles of standing water he could find, in order to prevent the breeding of the mosquitoes responsible for malaria.

Early in the evening, the drums began pounding furiously, announcing the beginning of the fertility festival. They seemed to be very nearby. Elizabeth had vehemently stressed to the village elders that the false gods were not to be worshipped, on penalty of condemnation from God and death. Elizabeth had made it clear that the assistance they received from the mission would be jeopardized by their adherence to these pagan rituals. The elders had appeared to agree, but it was clear that they had no intention of putting an end to the vile customs.

Handing her bag to Mary, she stormed out of the hut she was in and strode off in the direction of the drums, prepared to deliver an ultimatum to the elders. They relied on the mission not only for health care, but also assistance in their agriculture. The mission provided metal plowshares to the locals, as well as drilling bits and pipe to drill for water. They may be prepared to risk the wrath of God, but they would not want to resort to farming without the tooled, metal products provided by the mission.

She followed the sounds of the drums down a trail that led through the fields and into the dense rain forest. There, in a clearing in the jungle, the natives had erected huge, carved images of their gods. Ninepone, the female goddess of fertility had been carved from the trunk of a tree and painted.

Sitting, cross-legged, her palms held out as though to offer sustenance to her worshippers, she was naked. Her pointed breasts and swollen belly jutted out prominently. The statue was taller than Elizabeth. Next to her, the Creator of everything, Mebeghe towered over Ninepone. He stood upright, and a huge phallus jutted straight out from his body.

The elders sat facing the idols in a semi-circle, with the younger men sitting in rows behind them. A row of women faced the men, wearing only a strip of cloth to cover their genitals. They were all bare breasted. There were perhaps forty or forty five men, and about a dozen women. The men would not allow their wives or daughters to participate, so the only women were widows, or slaves captured in warfare with other tribes.

Elizabeth strode up to the men, who were startled at her presence, and immediately started in angrily on the elders.

“You promised not to insult God with this affront. These carved idols have no power. I demand you pull them down and burn them now.”

The people gasped, startled.

The chief’s son said, “The white devil should not witness this. It is taboo. She must be killed.”

Elizabeth was taken aback. The man’s anger was great. She hadn’t considered this turn of events, but she tried to maintain her angry visage and stand up to the elders.

The chief held up his hand for silence.

“What my son says is true. It is taboo for a woman to witness this sacred rite.”

He was very angry, but would not allow his villagers to see his emotions. The white devil had put him in a very tenuous position; it was clear he could not kill the woman. The soldiers would destroy his village and everyone in it if he committed such an act. While he did not fear death, he had a grave responsibility toward his village.

On the other hand, the gods demanded that non-believers interfering with their worship be stricken down. All the wisdom the chief possessed would be required to solve this problem without losing the respect of his tribe. A chief that lost the respect of his tribe would not be a chief long.

“Bind her,” he said. “I will speak with the elders later.”

Elizabeth feared greatly for her life.

“Wait. Why are these women allowed to witness, and I am to be put to death for witnessing?”

“These women are part of the ceremony, pleasing to Ninepone.”

“I can be part of the ceremony as well,” Elizabeth said, her heart pounding in her chest.

The chief almost showed his emotion, as he excitedly realized he had a way out of the corner he was in.

“Release her. She will be pleasing to Ninepone.”

The chief’s son scowled.

Now Elizabeth was the one in a quandary. She could remain faithful to her God and die, or she could participate in the worship of the filthy idol and live. She did not want to die, and rationalized to herself that merely watching the ceremony would not jeopardize her soul.

She joined the row of women, but she refused to undress. She made quite an unusual spectacle in the row of unclad, dark, black women. She was dressed as she dressed every minute of every day of the year. She had on a bonnet to shield her face from the sun, a long sleeve dress that went from her neck to her toes, and a pair of gloves to protect her hands. Every inch of skin was covered, except for her very white face.

When she refused to undress, the young men turned to the chief. He nodded, and they sat back down, allowing her to remain clothed. If the rest of her was as pale as her face, beholding her nude would have been monstrous, so he was happy to allow her to remain clothed.

The ceremony continued. As dusk began to fall, the men lit a fire in the clearing. The drums stilled and the village griot sat in the middle of the group, preparing to perform. All mouths were silent and all ears eager to hear the old man tell the oral history of the tribe. He paused for effect.

He was chewing on a root from the iboga plant, a shrub that grew in abundance in the rain forest. When chewed, it releases a small dose of ibogaine, which has a mildly stimulative effect, perfect for achieving the trance-like state that the griot entered before his performances.

Elizabeth had never seen a griot perform before, and didn’t know what to expect. The people all silent, anxiously waiting for him to start. The man looked to heaven, silent, chewing on the root with his arms out, palms up-turned. Then he began.

In his trance, he began with a monotone voice, chanting as he told the creation story, recounting the litany of gods created by Mebeghe and Ninepone’s union, the creation of mankind and the displeasure that the gods derived from their creations. As he warmed, his voice became sing-song. He intoned long sentences at a time without breath.

The griot had learned the oral histories from his father, who had been the village griot, and who had learned them from his father, the griot, going back many generations. When the griot finished relating the stories of the gods, he began telling of the births of men from the first human to the existing men of the tribe.

He told of wars, famines, floods, loss of their village to warring tribes, the taking of other villages and accompanying slaves, the coming of the white men looking for slaves to take away on their wooden cities that floated, the rifles that rained death on the tribe, the men that brought dynamite to reduce mountains to rubble in their quest for ores. The story went on for over an hour with no pause.

The griot sang songs that had been written to celebrate the victories, dirges that had been written in their times of defeat, and praises that had been written for the gods. When he finished, the hushed crowd sat in awe, amazed and proud of their history. Then the ceremony turned festive.

As the drums began beating, the women brought pots filled with steeped herbal tea into which large quantities of pulverized iboga root had been dissolved. When taken in large quantities, the ibogaine had profoundly intense psychoactive effects.

After the men had taken their fill, a cup was passed from woman to woman, allowing them to have some as well. Elizabeth took only a bit, not knowing what it was. Within thirty minutes, she began to feel the effects; at first, a loss of coordination of voluntary muscle movements, then a mild nausea. She felt sea sick, as though the world about her was swaying.

That gave way, quickly enough, to a feeling of complete euphoria. Elizabeth had never experienced anything like the feelings she was having. She felt like she was removed from her body, able to watch herself experience dreams while she was awake. The feeling was remarkable. She was hallucinating, seeing vivid shapes and colors shifting and changing in front of her eyes, but she was completely relaxed, as though it was happening to someone else, not herself.

In the midst of her reverie, the other villagers, who were accustomed to the drug, began dancing wildly to the beating of the drums.

The women’s breasts were bouncing and swaying, to the delight of the men, as they danced suggestively, grinding their bodies against them.

The men groped at the women as they rubbed up against them, playing with their breasts. Elizabeth sat watching, the only non-participant. In other times, she would have been shocked and outraged, but in her current state, it was as though she was not part of her surroundings and unable to hold thoughts together long enough to pass judgement on the actions.

Suddenly, the witch doctor broke into the middle of the circle of swaying bodies. He wore a mask that covered his entire head, shaped to resemble a huge ram’s head, with curved horns, painted hideously. He wore a huge, prosthetic penis, which pointed up toward the sky with a slight arch to it.

Flexing his pelvis, he jutted it toward the women as he groped them. His wild dances soon were emulated by the other men, who removed their loin cloths and began to chase the women, tearing at their cloths when they caught them. The women ran, giggling, as the men chased them around the clearing.

The firelight danced off the dark skin of the naked villagers, who appeared to Elizabeth as a single organism, shifting shapes and colors as they moved. It was as beautiful as any sight she had ever seen. The muscular bodies of the men combined with the sensual bodies of the nude women were extremely erotic.

Shifting her gaze toward Mebeghe, she was startled to see that his huge phallus was undulating. It not only bobbed up and down, but moved in and out with the thrusts of his hips. Within moments, a steady stream of cum began flowing from the tip of the penis.

Elizabeth chortled at the unlikely sight. Hearing her voice from someplace far away, she was uncertain whether she had actually laughed out loud, or only imagined it.

The chief’s son, Bonte, hearing her outburst, turned toward the white bitch with hatred in his eyes.

Grabbing her by the arm, he jerked her onto her feet, and said, “You wanted to participate in the celebration, didn’t you?”

Elizabeth’s muscles weren’t responding the way she expected, and she fell into Bonte’s arms, unable to stand. Like all white devils, the woman had a strange odor, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. He pushed her away, and she grabbed the idol’s phallus for support, leaning against it and further outraging Bonte.

“It’s time for you to join the dance,” he said.

With that, he pulled her dress open at the back. The buttons popped off her dress and scattered in the dust. Elizabeth stood shakily, holding up her arms to allow him to slip the dress over her head, as though she were a little girl being helped out of her clothes in preparation for bedtime. She stood there in her chemise.

By now all eyes had turned on her. The chief watched nervously.

“Bonte!” he said.

“I’m only helping the white devil learn the customs of our celebration,” he said.

His father glared at him, but he said nothing.

Once again, Elizabeth held up her arms to allow Bonte to pull the chemise over her head. She stood in only her knickers. The villagers had never seen a more hideous body, with its pale, white skin. Grabbing her knickers by the waistband, he pulled them down around her shoes, leaving Elizabeth completely naked in the midst of the crowd.

She felt no shame, no embarrassment. She knew she was nude, but so were the rest of the participants. She had the feeling that she was only dreaming, and that she was part of a show she was watching in her dream. The men were uncircumcised; Elizabeth knew that, she had witnessed enough births among the villagers. But she had never seen an adult male that was uncircumcised. Their penises looked huge, and when erect, as Bonte’s was, the head peeked out from its protective sheath.

Elizabeth had an overpowering arousal come over her as she stared at Bonte’s erection. His huge penis rose from a thick, curly mat of dark pubic hair unlike any she had seen. His huge sac hung low, and Elizabeth had a strong urge to hold it, to let it rest in her palm.

She reached out and hefted his sac in her palm, and Bonte’s powerful erection immediately twitched. Laughing at that, Elizabeth reached out with her other hand and wrapped it around the shaft.

Bonte inhaled sharply as the woman caressed his balls and held his shaft. Gripping her around the waist, he turned her and pushed his dick between her legs. She could think of nothing but Mebeghe’s huge pole undulating and spewing its cum. That pole became this throbbing erection that now pushed against her opening, trying to enter her.

Elizabeth desperately wanted the shaft inside her. With the entire group watching in amazement, she reached behind her and grabbed it, rubbed it up and down her slit, then positioned it against her opening. The young man thrust and he was in. The fit was exceedingly tight, and it pulled painfully at the sensitive skin inside her pussy.

He was being rough, pounding her hard, and it was painful, but she had never been so aroused. She wanted to be taken by this wild beast, to be used for his enjoyment, without regard to what she wanted or needed. Her God couldn’t possibly count this against her; after all, it wasn’t her idea. She could only wait until the beast had his fill of her and left her. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of his huge cock filling her like she had never been filled before.

The rest of the villagers went back to their debauchery, amazed that Bonte would find pleasure in the groin of this gruesome looking woman. A few of the young men continued to watch the couple, as there were too few women for all the men that were present.

Bonte reached around and played with the woman’s tits while he pumped her. His touch was rough, and he twisted her nipples hard. The rougher he became, the more aroused Elizabeth became. She desperately wanted to rub herself, but Bonte was rocking her so violently, she couldn’t stand if she didn’t support herself with both arms against the tree she leaned on.

“Umm, fuck me, fuck me harder,” she said in Bantu, not even aware she was saying it out loud.

The onlookers laughed and leered at the filthy white woman, who seemed to enjoy this as much as Bonte was.

Bonte stopped pumping momentarily, tensed his body, then grunted loudly as he continued pummeling her, his warm, sticky cum filling her up. She could feel the warmth, and the additional lubrication. He leaned against her back as his orgasm made him stumble against her.

When he regained his composure, he disgustedly pushed her away from him. His sperm ran down her leg. Before she could move, another young man took Bonte’s place. Elizabeth didn’t even know who was grabbing at her and poking at her. The young man entered more easily than Bonte had, now that she was more lubricated. But her pussy was already sore, and he was as large as Bonte had been, so even with the extra lubrication, every stroke stung. Nonetheless, her arousal was no less than it had been; indeed, she would not be satisfied until she was able to rub her needy little cunt and shiver in orgasm.

She groaned as the man pounded her until he too came in her. One after another, the young men of the village took their turn at her vagina, filling her with their girth, then filling her with cum. Her white skin had splotches of red where the men had rubbed, squeezed and pinched her. Five, six, seven men stroked her without any regard for anything but their own carnal pleasure, looking only to satisfy the need in their groin.

Finally, when they were satiated, they left the disgusting white devil and continued their celebration. Elizabeth found what buttons she was able to see in the flickering firelight, then gathered her clothes and stumbled back toward the village. As she went, she began putting her clothes back on, holding her dress together as best she could until she finally found the hut she was using.

Falling onto the bed, she lay under her blanket, shivering, even though it wasn’t cold. She continued to replay the events of the evening in her mind, over and over. The men’s long, thick cocks entered her, one after the other, as they pinched and twisted her tender nipples. Reaching under the covers, she found her clit and toyed with it as she replayed the scenes in her mind.

She delayed her orgasm, even though her need was great, until she could no longer stem the tide of her climax. It washed over her violently, as she shook and trembled from the intensity of the pleasure. When the drug began to wear off, she finally was able to sleep.

The next morning she slept late. Fortunately, she had brought a change of clothes, as the dress she had worn the day before was a shambles. She struggled through the chores of the day, and immediately went to sleep after dinner. By the next morning, she felt normal again. As she encountered the young men of the village in the course of her duties, they leered at her. She was glad she would be leaving on the morrow, though she was still incredibly excited when she thought about how she had been used.

That night, as she lay in bed, caught between sleep and wakefulness, she heard her door open, and saw shapes silently entering her hut. One of Elizabeth’s recurring nightmares over her life was to be stalked by an assailant, and be so frightened that she was unable to scream. Every time she had that nightmare, she would awaken at the moment that she was attacked, so she never knew the end of the nightmare.

As she saw the shapes enter her hut, silhouetted by the faint starlight outside, she had the exact same feeling as her nightmare. Her heart raced inside her nightclothes, and she broke out in a cold sweat, but she was unable to move or make a sound. All she could do was wait to have her throat slit. She knew she had made powerful enemies in this village among the pagans who worshipped the idols.

Less than a second passed, during which she had all these thoughts and more. Ashape sprang across the room and her blanket was stripped from the bed. Hands began pulling at her bedclothes, laying her nude in seconds. Hands began roaming her body, pressing at her genitals and tugging on her breasts. They were being extremely rough with her, and she realized instantly it had to be the young men of the village who had used her two nights previously.

They appeared to have no intention of harming her; at least, not yet. For the time being, it appeared they would be content to use her to satisfy their lust. As soon as her clothes were taken from her, she was turned over onto her hands and knees and a man began poking her with his penis as he fondled her thighs and rump.

Elizabeth instantly became aroused as she relived the experience of the other night. Though she had never in her life been so blatantly used and degraded, she had also never been more aroused. She was beginning to understand her needs as never before. She longed to be used by men in such a way that she couldn’t be held culpable by her God.

She had her needs, to be sure, but she denied them, instead preferring men to take her without permission. She longed to have these men use her now. She wished them to line up and take her, one after the other, until they showered her with their juices and left her a sweaty mess on her bed, and it appeared that they would comply with her wishes.

She arched her back, jutting her ass toward the man, anxious to feel him fill her up. As he rooted around in the dark, poking her with his penis, she reached behind her and grabbed his shaft, then slid it up and down her slit. As the dampness of her pussy lubricated his penis, she place it on her opening.

With a single thrust, he rammed it into her impossibly tight little pussy. The man was very large, and not at all patient or tender. After only three thrusts, he was fully penetrated. Elizabeth grunted as he took her, eliciting lewd snickers from the crowd. As soon as he had fully penetrated her, he began pumping her pussy rhythmically, pulling her hips toward him as he thrust.

The feeling of this huge cock sliding in and out of her tight pussy was spectacular. She arched her back more, desperately trying for deeper penetration, though it already felt as if he were pushing against her stomach from inside.

With all the men surrounding her in the small hut, pulling and groping her, she began to become very hot. Sweat beaded on her brow as she humped the fat dick in her groin. She was so aroused, she had to touch herself, drawing the laughter and lewd comments of the men who could feel her pushing their hands aside to play with her clit. The men were groping her in every way imaginable except for the one way she badly needed to be groped.

The man penetrated her one last time, stopped, then tensed as his orgasm began. Grunting loudly, he resumed pounding her as the hot, sticky sperm flowed from his dick. She could feel the warmth inside her as he spewed. With a final growl of extreme pleasure, he stilled momentarily. Then, his dick flopped out of her as he pulled away.

Elizabeth shivered as the dick popped out of her, leaving her empty. Before the cum could even begin to run out of her pussy, another man quickly took his place behind her. Finding her opening, he rammed his hard dick into her. She was so wet he was able to easily begin sliding in and out of her pussy. The other men continued pulling and groping at her body as they laughed and taunted her.

“Is this how you like it?” they said, and “Does your missionary fill you like this?” and “You can stay as long as you want, white bitch.”

Elizabeth felt like a filthy tramp, and it was the most exciting feeling she had ever had. She loved the feeling of being a slut, serving no purpose other than as an object of pleasure for the unknown men who used her. Her body was simply a receptacle for their sperm, little more than a rag to be used to wipe the cum from their filthy peckers.

The fact that she didn’t know who they were made it even more exciting. As she saw them in the daylight, they would know that she was the slut they had used, the horny slut who couldn’t keep her hand out of her naughty crotch as she was being used by the strangers. But she would have no idea who they were.

Elizabeth became lost in a carnal fog of lust. Her world consisted of nothing but the thickness filling her pussy, the squeezes and pinches of the other men fondling her, and the sensations emanating from her pussy as she rubbed her clit. Her body was assaulted by a cacophony of stimulation, all of which seemed to center on her groin.

Within moments she was falling over the edge of an extremely intense orgasm. Her breathing became ragged and her pussy squeezed the man’s dick as it contracted repeatedly. She moaned loudly as she exploded, drawing more laughter from the men.

Grunting, the man filled her with another load of sperm.

“Ayy, ayy, uggghhh,” he moaned.

Elizabeth’s upper body collapsed onto the bed, and she rested her head on her forearms as she awaited the next man to take his place. Cum ran down her leg before the next man entered her roughly.

“Now the white bitch can enjoy a real man,” he boasted to his cohorts as he filled her with his long, thick cock.

Yet again, she was filled with a huge cock. The cock didn’t care that she had already been satisfied. It didn’t care whether or not she wanted to be filled. All that it cared for was the warmth and tightness of the pussy it filled.

Over and over the men filled her. Seven times? Eight? She didn’t know. She had lost count. She had had two orgasms, and her sensitive clit was sore from overuse, yet she could not resist continuing to rub herself as the men used her. She didn’t know if she would cum a third time, but she couldn’t stop rubbing.

The men began to filter out as they had had their fill. As near as Elizabeth could tell, there were either two or three left in the room, including the man who now pumped his dick in and out of her pussy. She missed the feeling of being surrounded by the horny mass of bodies that had groped her.

Reaching out, she grabbed the shaft of one of the men groping her. He grunted as she gave his hard dick a squeeze. She ran her hand up his shaft and felt the uncircumcised foreskin. She had never felt that before. As she pulled her hand up and down, the head bobbed in and out of the cover of the foreskin.

She reached down and cupped the man’s scrotum in her palm. He continued tweaking her nipples as she gently caressed his balls. He had a thick mat of pubic hair all over his sac. She ran her hands from the bottom of his sac up to the tip of his dick as he moaned lightly.

The man inside her began bucking wildly, then grunted as he filled her with his cum. Immediately the man whose shaft she was fondling jumped up off the bed and shoved his way into position to enter her next. As he began sliding in and out of her pussy, she resumed rubbing her clit.

Now she knew she was going to cum as she replayed the feeling of holding his uncircumcised cock in her hand. She arched her back, offering her raw, sore cunt to the stranger’s dick as she approached her climax.

“Unngggh, UMmmmm, MMMmmmm,mmmm, aww,” she groaned, as she had a third orgasm.

Each orgasm seemed more intense than the one before. After the waves of pleasure coursing through her body subsided, she lay motionless. She neither resisted the man’s thrusts nor encouraged them. Her mind was blank, her emotions spent. She barely noticed when the man filled her with his cum and pulled out.

The cum dribbled down her leg until another man positioned himself behind her and entered her raw cunt. He held her by her hips and tried to move her in rhythm to his thrusts, but she sat motionless, too weary to resist or participate. She had never been so sexually satiated. She knew that over the rest of her lifetime, this is the night she would replay in her imagination when she masturbated. But for now, she just wanted the last man to cum on her and leave her to sleep.

After a few minutes, the man held her rump tightly against his groin and moaned loudly as he squirted in her. He quickly pulled out and she collapsed onto the bed. Yet another man grabbed her and lifted her to her knees, then entered her.

Finally, they were gone and she was alone. She groped in the dark hut until she stumbled upon her blanket, then collapsed in bed and pulled the blanket over her. She didn’t bother to dress. As the cum continued to dribble out of her, she wiped it with the blanket until she went to sleep.